


tiny things

by Anry



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Drawing, Kinks, Lingerie, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Makeup, Reading Aloud, Rope Bondage, Sensitive everything, Shibari, Stockings, Tactile, Touching, sensitive neck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anry/pseuds/Anry
Summary: This will be a series of mini kink-related taeten stories, that have no plot, no define relationship, no connection, and most importantly - no sex in them (though what is sex is another good question we can keep asking).
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 19
Kudos: 97





	1. the lipstick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This text exists thanks to [kaiSSa666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiSSa666) and their   
> brilliant photoshop skills.
> 
> One day we had an idea that somebody in SM should have thought of how dark lipstick would look glorious on taeten, but turns out nobody did. SM, you are so useless, I can't.
> 
> So [kaiSSa666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiSSa666) had to make this:
> 
> And this:
> 
> And I had to write this:

Dark lipstick was a sudden decision of one of the make-up noonas, the girl who usually works with Red Velvet. Ten still can’t remember her name, but does remember her cheeky smile as she said “I have an idea,” and asked him to wait for a moment while she was searching for the right colour in her bag. 

“It looks good on you”, it wasn’t rare for him to get compliments from girls, but from noonas it’s always different. They aren’t fans, they don’t see him as an idol, just as a part of their work. For fans, some would always say he looks good, someone would say he doesn’t - it doesn’t matter. 

From noona, who doesn’t actually compliment him, just herself on a job well-done, it somehow feels much more real. Gives him confidence with any look, just that bit more to tease his teammates a little more cheerfully. To tease Taeyong at all.

Taeyong didn’t say anything, when he saw the colour of the lipstick: not during the fan meet, or later in the car, but Ten noticed the glances anyway, curious, shy. Taeyong would turn away as soon as Ten looked back at him. 

Cute. 

Ten doesn’t like to intimidate Taeyong. Not like others. Their relationship is different and there is no point in changing that, not with how much Ten respects his hyung and looks up to him. 

But sometimes, when Ten manages that without any effort, just by being, wearing something, dancing something cool, which makes Taeyong look at him like this  — there is a feeling that he finally has an upper hand in their dynamics. Ten likes it.

Ten spent the rest of the evening watching doramas in NCT 127 common room, and it’s about two at night when he was tying the laces on his shoes before heading out. He stood up and found Taeyong staring at him.

“What?” Suddenly it didn’t feel like he had an upper hand at all, with how he used impolite speech towards his hyung just because Taeyong startled him, “Sorry, hyung”. He felt his cheeks getting pink, and thanked god that the light in the room was off. He still could see Taeyong soft smile, though.

“Nothing,” his tone was quiet. Soft. He raised his hand reaching out to Ten’s face and Ten didn’t even think of stepping back, anticipating the touch.

Taeyong put his hand on Ten’s jaw, lightly, barely touching, and traced Ten’s lower lip with his thumb.

When Ten was finally lying in his bed, later, the touch still lingered and his heart was beating like crazy.

*******

For the next fan meeting the Red Velvet noona isn’t with them, as usual, replaced by another girl. She still has the same make up bag with dozen lipsticks, though. 

Ten doesn’t plan anything, not until he sees the dark color in her hands. She seems to have taken it out unintentionally, maybe it was next to the colour she planned to use. Noona is ready to put it away when he stops her.

“Noona, can I borrow this one?” She looks at him a bit owlishly, unsure of what he needs, “I mean, I’ll give it back just a bit later.”

She chews her lip, handing him the tube, “you were wearing a dark one last time, weren’t you? I don’t think…”

Ten laughs sheepishly, “yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I won’t. My lips are all in your beautiful hands,” Ten winks to her and instead of blushing she rolls her eyes.

“Don’t smudge that eyeliner, playboy,” she still sounds pleased though.

They have a half an hour break in the middle of the fanmeet. It's a long one, so their managers cared enough to give them some time to rest. Ten can’t find Taeyong in the common changing room so he starts looking for him backstage, away from the noise. 

It takes him some time before he manages to find the leader sitting quietly behind a bunch of cardboard boxes, probably from all the stage stuff. He looks tired, scrolling down sometging in his phone, which lights up his face. 

Ten approaches carefully, gently knocking on the wall a couple times, just to make his presence known. He doesn’t want to startle Taeyong. 

Taeyong looks at him, vary at first, but he seems to visibly relax as soon as he sees Ten’s face. It’s nice to know that Taeyong isn’t bothered by him.

“Hi,” hyung smiles, “are you okay?”

Ten nods, stepping closer to Taeyong. He is still not sure what he is doing. He doesn’t want to pressure Taeyong into anything, even if it seems fun to him. Ten looks at him, trying to understand his mood. He is usually good at reading Taeyong, used to understand these expressions of interest, or care, or discomfort.

It’s harder when he’s tired though, like all the emotions get blurred.

“Ten?” Taeyong tenses a little, probably confused by Ten staring at him, trying to figure out what to do. His hands are shaking a little, as he squeezes the tube of lipstick in his hand.

Then Ten decides to just go for it and smiles playfully. He closes the rest of the distance between them, leaving just enough that Taeyong doesn’t feel his personal space invaded. Ten knows better than to do that  — at least before he gets a permission. He takes the lipstick out of his pocket and shows it to Taeyong, hoping that his hands are not trembling.

Taeyong looks at the tube, and then on Ten, confused. It’s probably a good time to use words and ideally without faltering. Why is he always like this with Taeyong? Why he can’t approach him the same way he does with everyone else?

“You liked the colour on me, didn’t you, hyung?” Ten doesn’t need to ask, actually. His lips still remember that touch, “I think it will look good on you.”

Noonas might disagree, but that is the last thing bothering Ten right now. Fans will notice, of course, but that too doesn’t matter for him. He just hopes Taeyong feels the same.

Hyung looks at him, then at the lipstick in his hand, still cautious, maybe also thinking about noonas, or fans, or somebody else, but then he just nodes, simply, confidently (much more so than Ten feels, even though he is the one who suggested this).

Taeyong reaches out to take the tube out of Ten’s hands, but Ten steps away, “Hyung, but it’s dark here. And there are no mirrors. How will you do it yourself?”

“You have any other ideas?” Taeyong raises his eyebrow, skeptical, and Ten smiles again, teasing.

“Well, I can do that, you know? I’m good at makeup.”

By the look on Taeyong’s face he isn’t impressed with this statement. He sighs, but Ten can see that there’s no annoyance, too. He feels lucky. 

Taeyong nods and sits straight on the chair, finally giving Ten the sign that it’s okay to approach. Ten closes the distance between them. He wonders if he can make Taeyong flustered, just a bit, not to make him uncomfortable. If he can touch him in that same way that it will linger.

He opens the tube, carefully wipes off the extra product on the brush. Only then he notices that his hands are still shaking, just a little, like they are before getting on stage. Ten wonders, why this has such an effect on him, but gives up thinking. He needs to look confident in what he is doing.

Taeyong lifts his chin just a little, parting his lips like he would do, if Ten was just a makeup noona. Ten wonders, if he also closes his eyes when they paint his lips the same way he does now.

Ten is glad he does, though. Probably makes it less likely for him to notice that all Ten’s confidence is fake.

He probably should have also grabbed a pencil, otherwise the edges are going to be pain, but he already didn’t so he will have to deal with it somehow. Ten starts from applying the lipstick to the safe area - the middle of the lower lip, somewhere he doesn’t need to worry about the clear lines.

It’s weird, a little bit. Different, when you can't feel what you are doing, like when you do your own makeup. But even there, this isn’t the same like with Haechan, or Johnny. They did each others makeup, but not like that, not without any need to, alone, hidden from everyone backstage.

Ten doesn’t want anyone to interrupt, to ask them what they are doing, just because this is more intimate, than he would ever want to explain. He hopes no one else wants the quiet privacy of this part of the backstage today.

It’s good that noonas chose to not apply any lipstick on Taeyong, just some basic lip balm, which has already absorbed. It’s winter, but the lips aren’t chapped, like Taeyong is that clever guy who doesn’t forget about proper skincare. They seem so soft that Ten wants to touch them  — the same way Taeyong did. He doesn’t do that and keeps painting his lips instead, carefully spreading the dark colour, closer and closer to the edges of the lower lip. 

Taeyong breaths steadily, but Ten notices the way he holds on to the chair with his hand. Maybe just to stay still, and make Ten’s job easier. But also maybe because it's harder for him to breathe evenly than it seems to be.

Ten hopes that it’s the second one. 

Hyung looks a little bit undone, more than he usually lets people see. Probably because he knows, that Ten isn’t trying to tease him, or make fun of him. Because there’s this line of trust which lets this soft intimacy happen between them.

The edges go just fine, easier than Ten feared it to be, but then he transfers his attention to the lower line of the lip, trying to paint it evenly. Like that, he feels Taeyong’s warm breath on his fingers, and can’t hold himself back from shuddering, smudging the line slightly. 

Taeyong doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t tense more, trusting Ten to fix that. Ten takes the tube with his right hand, and then carefully cups his hyung’s chin to steady him by his left, carefully wiping the extra colour under the lip with his thumb.

He wishes he didn’t feel the way Taeyong’s breath hitched at that, because there is still the upper lip to go, and Ten isn’t sure he can finish what he started without drawing something horrible on Taeyong’s pretty face.

Ten doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t take his left hand away, instead tracing Taeyong’s cheekbone with clean fingers and then his temple, almost ecstatic at the fact that Taeyong doesn’t move away, instead letting his breath to become more erratic, as Ten places his hand in Taeyong’s hair, and strokes down the nape of the neck.

Ten knows that their break is finishing soon, and they don’t have much time for that, so he takes his hand away, transfers the tube of the lipstick back to his left hand again, and goes back to painting the upper lip. 

He does it the same way  —  from a safe zone, working his way to the edges. It’s just that bit more difficult with how the warm air of breaths feels on Ten’s fingers, and with how Taeyong’s upper lip seems to be that bit more sensitive, than his lower one, with tiny shudders running through him with each light touch of the brush. 

Somehow, it still works out. This time without any mistakes, the deep black lying on Taeyong’s lip evenly. It looks beautiful on him, just like Ten expected.

Taeyong opens his eyes slightly, when he hears Ten closing the lipstick. Hyung watches him carefully, thinking of something, but Ten doesn’t know if he should ask.  Taeyong smiles to him and suddenly says, “thank you,” in that low voice, which makes Ten clench his fingers around the tube, like it’s the only thing holding him together.

“We should go, probably,” Ten says, “the second part will start soon”. 

Taeyong nods and follows him to the direction of dressing rooms, but then suddenly catches him by the elbow. 

“Wait. Your lace is undone,” instead of letting Ten fix it himself, Taeyong stands on one knee to fix the laces for him, caring as he always is with them. Ten doesn’t argue.

When Taeyong finishes, he doesn’t stand up right away, looking on Ten’s knee instead.

Ten is wearing his favourite black jeans with holes in them exposing his knees. Couldn’t find anything better after oversleeping this morning, honestly. 

He doesn’t expect Taeyong to touch his knee, gently, and then to lean in and press the lightest kiss there, the one he can barely feel. Ten’s heart pauses for a second, before beating so fast he can barely hear anything. 

Taeyong traces the place of the kiss with his fingers again, gentle. “Still didn’t dry,” he says that in a voice which implies that it’s not a big deal, just a usual way to check if the lipstick is dry. Then he wipes the stain away, so nobody can tell, and stands up, looking like nothing has happened while Ten is falling apart.

“Let’s go? Fans are waiting”.

Ten follows Taeyong without arguing, and even tries to focus on the fans, and promotion, and other important things, but fails everytime he looks at Taeyong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and Taeten for existing.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! (and I hope to post more soon)


	2. the stockings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This exists because one day I complained to [kaiSSa666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiSSa666) (who basically is to blame for most of ideas of these texts) that men do not wear stockings and they sent me [this tmblr account](https://justanothertart.tumblr.com/).  
> Be careful, it is quite nsfw, so don't open it in public lol. (but it's very beautiful)
> 
> So yeah, with all my love for taeten, wearing stockings, looking at others wearing stockings, I wrote this.
> 
> (also for unclear reasons, i am absolutely incapable of writing Taeyong's POV, so please forgive me)

Out of the whole world, only two people knew that Taeyong sometimes wears stockings. That is two people more than Taeyong would prefer to know, but considering he lives in a dorm with people who have no notion of personal space, he thinks that he is still doing a pretty great job.

Well, Johnny, obviously knew. Have you tried to share a room, job, computer and 19 children with a person for a couple years and still have secrets? Well, don’t even try. They knew the most ridiculous things about each other, even without trying to (as in, they tried as hard as they could not to learn more about each other). But someone will always forget to log out of his Pornhub account, or leave his stockings in a wrong place.

Taeyong didn’t even feel mortified (well, at least not very) when Johnny found them, because he knew for sure — his roommate has enough brains to never mention it to others, or even to Taeyong himself. Johnny looked at the black lace for 30 seconds, opened his mouth, as if he wanted to ask something, closed it, took a deep breath and put the stockings away on Taeyong’s shelf.

They never brought it up again, and even if Johnny walked in on Taeyong adjusting the suspenders on the garter belt, he just ignored it, like it was totally normal thing for a guy to do.

With Ten. With Ten it was a completely different story, mostly about Taeyong being reckless. He shouldn’t be, of course. Nobody should now about those things — one photo taken by the sasaeng fan, or just the wrong person seeing that, and he will never get rid of the comments, articles, weird looks and question. Though SM might quite easily get rid of him.

But as Heechul once told him, there’s no point to deprive yourself from what you like simply because you are an idol. Just make sure that you have everything you want to have very, very carefully. 

Taeyong was usually very careful, except for this one time.

It was during the promotion with Baby don’t stop. There was a simple day ahead of them: car to the studio, two hours of interview, no changing, no makeup even, then back to the dorm. This was exactly the day when Taeyong would do something like this — there wasn’t a chance anyone would notice, anyway.

Well, at least not if you forget to close the bathroom door, and then that happens to be the moment one of the suspenders unclasps from the stocking, so you need a couple minutes to fix it. And that also happens to be the moment Ten walks in.

Honestly, it could have been worse. In so many ways, like if that was anyone from the staff, their manager, or even any other member. He didn’t think so at that exact moment though, since all he felt was a horrible dread washing over him, as Ten was following the lace of the stocking with his eyes.

Ten looked lost, like that didn’t fit in well with his image of Taeyong, or something. Like the world broke a little. Well, probably that was exactly what happened. No one expects their hyung to wear laced stocking under the jeans. 

Ten looked up at Taeyong’s face, probably wanted to ask something, or to comment. Taeyong felt his cheeks being completely red, heart beating somewhere in his ears. He knew for a fact, that if it was literally anyone else from the group, Ten wouldn’t hold back the jokes, teasing and everything.

But instead of saying something, Ten just put a hand over his mouth (like it took him some physical effort to stay silent). Said a quick “Sorry,” muffled against his palm, and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

This time Taeyong made sure to lock the door properly and it took him about ten minutes and a lot of cold water to make sure he stopped looking like a tomato, and could hear anything except for his frantically beating heart. 

Also fixing a suspender. He still needed to fix a fucking suspender.

Ten didn’t talk to him for the entire ride home, sitting in a different corner of the car. It was for the best, honestly, since Taeyong wasn’t sure if he could bear this conversation. 

When arriving to the dorm though, right before they had to go separate ways, Ten grabbed his wrist for a moment, letting go immediately, just to make Taeyong stop.

Taeyong still expected everything — questions, jokes, a serious talk about his recklessness even. But none of this came.

“I’m sorry,” Ten said it in a way, like he was the one who had something to apologize for, “I didn’t. I don’t,” Taeyong found it amusing how Ten, who usually had no problems talking about anything to anyone, somehow lost this ability next to him, “I didn’t mean to, okay?”

Taeyong nodded, a little surprised.

“And we don’t need to ever bring it up. I mean,” Ten’s cheeks suddenly got pink, and he had to take a breath before continuing, “I won’t ever bring it up again, but. Can I say something?”

Taeyong nodded once again, as if he forgot how to use his words too. 

“You look really good in them.”

After that Ten just turned around and walked down the hallway, fast, as if Taeyong was running after him.

It was new — not just wearing stockings, a tiny little secret, a sensation. Not just looking at your own reflection, but having someone to appreciate. It created this hot, overwhelming feeling in his chest. Taeyong couldn’t name it.

It took him some courage to message Ten later, but getting rid of the idea was harder.

 **Taeyong** : Thank you.

The reply came later, even though Ten usually took seconds to reply to messages. 

**Ten** : ^^

*******

They didn’t bring it up after that. Taeyong became even more careful, checking the doors many times, and making sure the suspenders can’t be noticed under the clothes. 

He also did not have promotions together with Ten for awhile. Not before the whole SuperM thing was announced. Taeyong didn’t feel excited for it at first, but then came around, since a tour with hyungs sounded fun. He also likes the US, and the fact that he won’t have to be babysitting anyone. Or at least not everyone. At least not 20 of them.

It’s a short day, again. The only thing they have to do is going to the SM building for a meeting about SuperM promotion, and that’s it. Almost a weekend. 

When he wakes up Johnny had already left for his personal schedule. Taeyong also knows that they all wanted to go to Ikea later, so he will probably come back to an empty dorm. A blessing.

He doesn’t plan anything initially, but then something spikes him to take out the stockings and garter belt. It’s nothing — just a couple of hours there and then coming back right after. Also no chance that anyone will try touching his butt (a possibility he should also never forget about with Haechan around), since just Lukas, Mark and Ten are going.

Ten. The memory flashes back to Taeyong, making him grasp the lace of the garter belt tighter and make a long controlled exhale. 

It’s not that he wants Ten to notice, but he still grabs tighter jeans than he usually would. It’s a fine line where the suspenders are almost invisible, but if you know where to look — it’s possible to notice the outlines of the clips. (Not that Taeyong expects Ten to be looking).

The meeting isn’t very exciting. The managers announce the schedules, Baekhyun looks unamused, Lucas is half-asleep on the table after the night flight. Jongin keeps joking about something with Taemin in the corner of the table.

Taeyong makes notes in the planner to make sure that he remembers everything, but even that doesn’t save him from being bored. When managers start to explain how SuperM things will be working out with Exo’s comeback, Taeyong leans back in the chair, just to close his eyes for a moment. 

They sit together with Ten, who is also probably waiting for this to be over. Taeyong wonders, if Ten noticed? He probably didn’t. And why does he think that Ten would want to, anyway? Just because one compliment after a dreadfully embarrassing scene? It’s unlikely Ten himself wants to ever bring it up.

The stockings feel nice though. The silicone sewn in the lace top band is a little tight, but it isn’t annoying. In fact, this actually feels better, just because it reminds you gently what you are wearing.The garter belt around the waist, also laced, with suspenders running down the thighs. 

He was once browsing Tumbler via his anonymous account. It was fun to see some things which fans posted about them, especially if you learned to ignore the haters. There is always a lot of content with them — fanfiction, which he skipped, some art — horrible and really good, sometimes — kind words about their music. 

That day he found a fan posting a photo of a man in stockings and writing something like ‘don’t you think NCT Taeyong would look great in this?’

Taeyong spent the next hour going through the photos on this man’s account. He couldn’t quite stop — the lace of different colours, the underwear, everything just looked so pretty that he couldn’t close the page (even though some posts he scrolled down rapidly). He also couldn’t somehow get it out of his brain later — the picture of black lace against the skin.

And the fan was right after all. It did look good on him.

He drifts away thinking about this, and almost misses the point when he needs to get back to following the conversation. Ten tries to get his attention by touching his thigh, right where the clip is. At first he doesn’t seem to understand what exactly he is touching, but when he does, he pulls his hand away immediately, cheeks bright pink as he looks in the opposite direction.

Well, at least now Taeyong can assume Ten noticed. And he also hopes that Baekhyun takes notes of whatever the managers say now, because all his attention switched to the way Ten’s gentle touch can still be felt on his thigh. Also on the way Ten blushes right next to him, unsure where to put his eyes.

Taeyong should probably feel sorry, but somehow he doesn’t.

Ten doesn’t talk for their entire ride home, again. Mark looks concerned for a bit, but quickly switches to bothering Lucas, who at some point enters the stage of sleep deprivation where he thinks he is capable of conquering the world, so it ends up with them calling Johnny and deciding to meet in Ikea. They offer them to join, but Taeyong refuses.

Ten looks like he didn’t even notice them making the arrangements. It takes them a while to explain to him what Ikea they are talking about, and why are they going there. But even after all their explanations he also declines the offer.

After that he looks at Taeyong for a long second, a question in his eyes, but Taeyong can’t quite get what he is asking about, so he can’t even nod before Ten turns away. Usually he is good at mind reading, especially with Ten, since he used to help him a lot with his Korean. But all this is just an unfamiliar territory, so Taeyong can’t assume.

As soon as they arrive to the dorm Mark and Lucas get the car to join others, while Taeyong just goes to the dorm with Ten following him silently. 

It’s exactly the same turn, the one where Ten should turn right to go to his part of the dorms, but instead he grabs Taeyong by the elbow, just like last time, immediately letting go. Taeyong stops.

Ten’s face looks red, probably same as Taeyong’s does, and it takes an agonisingly long time for him to say anything. That time Taeyong spends hating himself for his decisions, but also. He can see that Ten kind of appreciated this, and that seems to be the reason why he is speechless. It’s nice.

Ten finally gets around what he wants to say, even if it’s just half of the sentence.

“Can I see?” the question still manages to surprise Taeyong. Not even the question itself, but how Ten is almost breathless asking it. Taeyong knows well that he can just say no, and Ten will never speak about this again. But somehow that’s not exactly what Taeyong wants, so he nods despite his better judgment, without even hesitating for a second.

Ten follows him quietly to NCT 127 dorm. If anyone is there, they are probably in their rooms. At least it’s quiet and they pass the common room without bumping into members. 

Taeyong lets Ten in the room and closes the door behind them, checking the lock twice. Johnny shouldn’t be home for some time, so it’s okay. Even though nothing about this is okay, if he is honest with himself. Where is this going? What Ten wants, and why, and. Taeyong leans against the door and takes a deep breath before he panics. 

“Hyung,” Ten looks at him with the expression equally confused, helpless even. There is no arrogance just the same ‘I want to be here, but I don’t know what I am doing’ kind of thing. Panick.

“I don’t want to,” Ten falters again, as if he doesn’t know the right words (Taeyong doesn’t too, and he is native in Korean), “If you are uncomfortable, I will leave,” he finally says.

Taeyong thinks for a second. It’s new and weird, and he doesn’t know where this is going, but he knows that he doesn’t want Ten to leave now. It helps though, to know that he can stop this any time. 

“No,” he says it much calmer than he thought he’d be able to, “just turn around.” Ten does, without asking or arguing.

Taeyong unbuckles the belt. Somehow it feels weird to undress in front of Ten like that, even though they did it a thousand times before in the common changing rooms. He takes off the jeans completely, a bit rushed, and puts them on the chair where they usually stack their clothing with Johnny. It feels weird to stand like that, in stockings, long T shirt covering the garter belt. But he still anticipates Ten’s reaction.

Ten doesn’t turn back to him, so Taeyong has to say, “It’s okay,” the most elaborate thing he can manage.

When Ten turns he just looks at Taeyong for a moment, eyes wide, following his legs, stopping on the lace band of the stockings and suspenders going under the T shirt. Taeyong feels glad he is wearing the usual black briefs and not something. Something else.

The garter belt can’t be seen under the T shirt, but Ten probably can guess it’s there. Taeyong doesn’t want to undress completely, somehow. Like everything further than this would be out of his comfort zone.

Somehow it’s Ten who seems to be the most uncomfortable, and suddenly Taeyong thinks that he probably doesn’t even know how to escape this situation now. He also probably has no idea what Taeyong wants. Even Taeyong himself doesn’t.

It’s time for him to remember how to use words. “Ten,” he says it as soft as he can, and he sees Ten shuddering at that, “You can leave at any moment, okay? Or I can get,” it takes Taeyong an effort to say this, but he feels like he should, “dressed, and we can forget about this.”

Ten shakes his head rapidly, “No. I. Can I..?”

He looks breathless still, and that urges Taeyong to keep talking.

“You can ask, okay? I also,” he takes another breath, and almost crosses the arms on his chest but then stops himself from the motion the last moment. He doesn’t want to be defensive. “I also don’t know what's happening, but. But I will tell you if it feels wrong. If you promise to do the same.”

Ten looks at him a bit owlishly, but nods anyway. “Okay, I. I promise,” Ten covers his face with his hands, probably trying to steady himself. Taeyong gets it — if Ten’s heart beats the same way as his, he might need a moment to get over it to say something, “Can I touch it?” 

Taeyong lets himself get a moment to think about it, but doesn’t find any reluctance. It feels exciting. He walks towards the bed and sits on it, thinking that it will probably be easier like that, and only then answers “Yes.”

Ten approaches him carefully, still eyeing the stockings. Taeyong anticipates the touch — the way Ten’s fingers will feel through the lace. He will have to think about this later, but none of this matters now, as Ten stands on his knees next to the bed by the side of Taeyong’s legs, close to him, but without touching.

For a moment Ten doesn’t move at all, probably getting over a mental breakdown, but then he raises his right hand and gently traces the front suspender from the T shirt down to the lace. The full body shiver which goes through Taeyong surprises even him, while Ten looks shook and takes the hand away immediately. 

It borders with being too intimate and to close to sex, but not quite. Taeyong doesn’t want it to be sex, but he does want Ten to touch him again like that. It’s weird. He probably needs to say this, and to check up on how Ten feels. 

Ten looks at him, waiting for Taeyong to say something, his right hand on his chest, like he doesn’t know where else to put it. He looks surprised, even a little scared. “Nobody ever touched me like that before. I mean. Wearing this, so,” Taeyong looks at his knees, dark nylon covering them, “But you can. If you want,” Taeyong doesn’t know how to put the rest into words, but he knows that he should, “Only this, okay? Just ignore… my reactions.”

Ten nods, and it seems that he understood him, even though Taeyong isn’t the best with his words right now. Ten brings his hand back, repeating the same motion, fingers along the suspender, down to the lace. This time Taeyong also shudders, but Ten doesn’t take his hand away, tracing his the edge of the lace, to the inner thigh. 

Taeyong can’t think straight, he just tries to hold back his reactions, not to make Ten uncomfortable or thinking that he wants something else than this, because he doesn’t. Even this is almost too much for him to comprehend. 

Ten goes to touching the lace itself, feels the elastic sewn into it, traces his fingers around the silicone clip. His lips are parted slightly, but he looks so focused, curious that it doesn’t leave Taeyong a chance to question if Ten wants that.

He traces his hand up the suspender, under the T shirt, revealing more of the skin on the side. He does that only up to the garter belt, until he can see the lace there. Ten’s fingers run through it, lightly, almost teasingly, gentle. Taeyong has to bite his lip almost to the point of pain not to give in to the feeling. But trembling is something he can’t hold back.

It goes on for some time — Ten reaching out to his other thigh, and repeating the motion, going down to the knee. Taeyong is glad he left the T shirt on. It’s easier for him to ignore the arousal that way, and he wants to ignore it, because right now it’s not the point. When Ten touches the inner side of the knee, Taeyong almost moans, unable to control that, and he notices that Ten looks at him, still curious, and repeats the motion, just to see Taeyong come apart a little more.

It somehow helps Taeyong to stop holding back the sounds, knowing that they don’t make Ten uncomfortable. Ten still follows the agreement — he doesn’t go beyond touching the stockings or the skin next to them, just to see how Taeyong reacts. At some point he takes the clip in his hand gently, not to put too much pressure on the lace, and says in a lower voice, “Hyung, can you open it?”

It’s a tricky system, and Ten might have never seen it before, the way the silicone pillow fits into the clasp, locking the material in. Taeyong got used to it already, but it’s hard to undo with the shaking hands. He succeeds anyway, from a third try or so. Ten holds the clip for a second, looking at the mechanism and then puts his hands back to Taeyong’s thigh, rolling the stocking down slightly, just carefully folding the lace part, touching the silicone which helps to hold the stockings better.

The silicon has left red marks on the skin.

“Does it ache?” Ten asks suddenly, same interest in his voice.

Taeyong thinks for a moment, but then shakes his head, “not really. You can feel it and sometimes it gets. Well, noticeable? But it’s not painful.”

Ten nods, looking at the marks a bit longer, before gently touching them with his fingers. Skin there is more sensitive from all the friction. It’s also intimate, even more then the whole thing already is, to let Ten see something beyond the pretty lace. Taeyong suddenly feels an urge to kiss him, but holds back. It feels like crossing the line.

Instead, he just leans down and touches Ten’s forehead with his. His heart beats so fast, and he can barely think, feeling undone by Ten’s attention.

Ten stops all the movement, and pulls the hand away from Taeyong’s thigh, taking his hand instead, interlacing their fingers. He is also trembling a little, just from touching Taeyong like this. It makes Taeyong feel overwhelmed with happiness. They stay like this for a moment, and the Ten speaks. 

“I’ll go now, okay, hyung?” despite saying this Ten grasps his hand a little tighter.

Taeyong nods, and Ten stands up, letting go of his hand. He freezes for a moment, and then kisses Taeyong’s forehead, all kinds of gentle, and whispers, “Thank you.”

Even minutes later, when he hears the front door closing, the whisper still rings in Taeyong’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I am glad that i was able to write the new part so soon.
> 
> I hope you all have a glorious day <3


	3. a drawing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten saw the tattoo for the comeback and thinks he can do better.
> 
> (while I am the best at writing summaries)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [kaiSSa666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiSSa666)
> 
> ❤

Ten and Taeyong sit in front of Ten’s tiny Macbook and look through 127’s latest photoshoot for the comeback. These are backstage photos - something all of them took with their smartphones while artists were drawing temporary tattoos on them.

“This one looks fun,” - Ten points on the one which is drawn on Jaehyun’s neck, “he even instagrammed that photo, didn’t he?”

Taeyong giggles. Their manager wasn’t happy that all of them published backstage photos so soon, but it was too late to delete them. He thinks Jaehyun did it precisely when he knew that the manager wouldn’t check.

“And this one,” - Ten continues to look through images and picks the one on Jungwoo’s neck, “It’s tiny and not very inventive, but somehow looks suits him.”

Next photo is the one where the master draws on Taeyong himself, a thick line on his arm. Ten switches to the next photo without commenting. It’s not the first photo of Taeyong he skips that fast, so Taeyong kicks him under the table.

“You don’t like it?” it’s not that he is offended. Well, maybe just a little bit, but not because Ten doesn’t like the picture. He dislikes the tattoo himself, to be honest, not something he would choose, if he had a choice. But he wanted Ten to say something anyway. 

Ten shrugs “It’s okay,” - and bites his lip. It’s funny how he sometimes is still sure that he can hide things from Taeyong. For a second Taeyong hesitates, if he should push further, but something in a way Ten looks at the screen, thinking, tells him that it’s okay.

Taeyong pokes Ten in the rib and he jumps, catching Taeyong’s wrist. A strand of bleached hair falls out of the short ponytail on top of his head, “Hyung!”

If he was someone else, like Haechan or Mark, or Lucas, Ten would tickle him back until he begged for mercy, but with Taeyong he just holds his wrist, softly enough so he can take his hand out of the grasp. Taeyong almost does that, but at the last moment just holds Ten’s hand instead intervening their fingers.

“You usually don’t hesitate to tell me that some of the outfits are shitty,” Taeyong honestly knows they are, and usually it’s easy to laugh about this, but now Ten just skips the photos like there is something he doesn’t want to tell. It’s not like he has to, but Taeyong wants to know.

Ten bites his lip again, hesitating, but Taeyong can wait. Sometimes it’s the best thing to do. Meanwhile, he strokes Ten’s thumb with his own, gently.

“It’s sloppy,” - finally says Ten, annoyed, and shrugs again, “The lines are too bold, the skull is stupid. The upper and lower parts do not make sense together. What are those lines next to your wrist? Also the colour is. Tattoos never look that way, the black ink fades when they heal. You could create that effect with ink, if you use the right shading, but it’s like they didn’t even try.”

Ten looks funny like that, with bleached hair, the ponytail which falls apart, his round glasses and that almost angry, engaged expression, as he keeps looking at the backstage shot. But there seems to be something else, besides the fact that he dislikes the picture. Taeyong can’t say for sure what it is, or how he sees that it’s there. It’s just the ability to read Ten’s gestures, and expressions - the way he still looks at the shoot and doesn’t take his hand away.

“Your artist’s feelings are hurt?” Taeyong pokes him again, this time in the thigh, to get his attention. Ten doesn’t even look at him, and that’s exactly what makes Taeyong sure that there is more to it. 

There is a short moment of silence. If Ten doesn’t want to tell him, it’s fine, but somehow Taeyong guesses that’s not the case. He is just not sure he can. But Taeyong is curious, and also he wants Ten to trust him with this. 

Taeyong pulls Ten’s hand, tugging on it, making Ten to look at him, “Ten? What is it?”

Ten cheeks get red, slightly, barely noticeable. If he ever told Kun that he knows how to make Ten blush, Kun would never believe him. No one would ever believe him, but Taeyong had a map of Ten’s reactions on his head, sometimes knowing exactly how to push and where to pull.

“It’s just,” Ten finally speaks, exhaling, like saying that took a lot of effort, “a pity. The ink would look great on you,” he stops for another moment, turning back to the computer, and says quietly “I could do better.”

It’s not just bragging or a fact, Taeyong can tell. It seems more like an offer. Ten could do better, probably even has the tools, since he never goes anywhere without his marker pens and brushes. Taeyong thinks for a moment, barely noticing that his grasp on Ten’s hand becomes tighter. He could imagine the process, the same one like with the master recently, before the shoot. But this time it would be Ten’s familiar fingers on his skin, a brush in Ten’s hands. Same attention he gives to the paper when he draws, but applied to him.

Even though he didn’t really enjoy being drawn on - too much contact with someone he just met, the decision is not hard to make. He would easily allow Ten so many things which no one else can do. Especially when he knows that it’s something Ten wants.

“You can try.”

Ten immediately turns to him, eyes wide. Another strand escapes from the ponytail and it falls apart, with the hairband still hanging on the hair. Taeyong reaches out to take it off with his free hand and then gives it back to Ten.

Ten follows his movements, still unsure, “Do you mean that? I mean.” he pauses, “Can I?”

Taeyong nods. It’s easy to trust Ten with that. He never gave Taeyong any reason not to, not while dancing, or just being around. Or being that little bit more intimate, like they are now, when Taeyoung can feel how Ten holds his hand. 

Ten glances at him once again and smiles, that tiny, extremely pretty foxy smile of his. He takes his hand away and stands up to goe to his backpack, so he can pick up his case with pencils and markers.

When he comes back, there’s that slight change in his look, like getting the permission somehow changed everything. Ten is suddenly more collected, and the expression on his face is more confident. Less relaxed, but much calmer at the same time. 

“Let’s sit on the bed. It would be easier if you could lean on the wall,” Taeyong complies easily, sitting next to the wall and crossing his legs in front of him to give Ten space to sit. Ten picks the pens - two calligraphy markers. Taeyong remembers that Ten usually calls them ‘liners’.

Ten looks at Taeyong, carefully, tilting his head to the side, like he is making some decision. When he is done, he asks Taeyoung to take off his t-shirt.

Taeyong is surprised, a little bit, since he thought that Ten would draw something on his arm the same place which was used for the shoot, but that doesn’t matter much. He takes off his shirt, while Ten tests several liners on his own skin by drawing some silly flowers on himself. He then touches the marks with his thumb to see which ones stay better. In the end he picks two pens and also sits on the bed, in front of Taeyong, while he leans on the wall and shudders, because it’s cold.

“Okay?” Ten looks at Taeyong seriously, confirming. Taeyong nods. 

Ten puts the liners away and takes the hair band off his wrist to put the ponytail back in place. He is wearing a T-shirt, too, so Ten notices the tattoo on his arm and reaches out to touch it.

“I never asked if you drew this yourself” - he somehow suspected that he did, but never confirmed that with Ten. The skin with the tattoo feels exactly like the rest of it, probably meaning that it healed completely. 

Ten nods, “but just the first version. The artist changed it in many places. Said I need to work on my lines,” he smiles softly, “She is right.”

He doesn’t ask Taeyong if he wants something particular to be drawn on him, but here Taeyong doesn’t mind that. It was annoying sometimes with the stuff, when they dyed his hair, dressed him without asking and letting him choose, acting like they were just dolls. This is different. The way Ten touches his collarbones with his fingers, and slides them down to his chest, his hand suddenly warm in contrast with the wall which still feels cold behind him. 

There is something in a way Ten looks at him, attentive and concentrated. The way his fingers slide to Ten’s ribs, while he thinks, probably plans something. Taeyong doesn’t ask, just focuses on the touch.

The first feeling of the liner is unexpected, but Taeyong makes an effort not to move. It’s not the first time he feels that thin and stiff end of the pen on his skin. But when Ten starts drawing his touches seem to be lighter than the ones he is used to. Ten doesn’t press, works lightly on Taeyong’s skin, so lightly that so he can’t exactly say if there are any lines or if the marker just touches the tiny hairs on his skin. It tickles, a little bit. But at the same time there is something in it, in the way he can’t follow Ten’s hand dancing all over his chest.

Ten keeps sketching. It isn’t big, not really, but long - up from that place where his ribs end to his collarbones. At first, Taeyoung tries hard to guess what it is, but Ten isn’t consistent - he draws a couple of lines here and there, then switches to a different part. It makes Taeyoung relax and just watch Ten’s expression, the same one when he draws on paper. Focused, attentive to details. Taeyoung suddenly thinks about the moles on his chest, the way those imperfections can’t be hidden now, under this attention. He wonders if they bother Ten.

When Taeyoung relaxes completely, lulled by chaotic touches of the pen, Ten places his free hand on Taeyong’s thigh, and the sudden touch makes Taeyong shudder, heat spilled throughout his body.

Ten stops and puts the pen away, to scratch on Taeyong’s skin, like if he was correcting the line. The feeling is so different from the light touches of the pen, that Taeyong tenses not to shudder again and closes his eyes..

“Is it okay?” asks Ten, noticing his reaction.

It’s not that it wasn’t okay. It just was different from what he was used to. Warm, soft touches on his skin and Ten’s hand on his thigh, and the still-tickling feeling of the pen. Tayong liked that soft attention, impersonal in a way that he was just acting as a canvas for Ten, but then - extremely personal as well, since Ten wanted to draw on him.

Suddenly Ten reaches out and gently moves the strand of pink hair away from Taeyong’s face. Taeyong feels that weird desire to lean in.

“If you are uncomfortable, I can stop.”

Taeyong focuses and only then understands that he didn’t reply to the previous question. 

“No. No, it's okay.” He tries to think for a second of what to say, licks his lips, but then gives up, since there is not a single smart thought, “It’s just nice. And ticklish a little bit.” 

Ten nods and runs his fingers down Taeyong’s neck to his shoulder, scratching it gently. 

“It’s so easy to leave a mark on you. Your skin is so white,” there is another scratch, and Taeyong tilts his head back and closes his eyes, “Pretty,” he takes his hand away, probably to take the marker in his hands again. This word runs through his veins, hot and nice, impossible to doubt.

This time there is a little more pressure with the pen, like Ten is more confident. His left hand stays still on Taeyong’s thigh but then moves to the naked skin on the ribs, probably to steady him. 

Taeyong doesn’t open his eyes again, just focuses on the feelings. At some point he hears the sound of one marker being closed, a quiet click, and then another one being opened.

This one feels different. More like a brush, with a softer end, which bends easily. More ticklish but Taeyong doesn’t mind, not when with it Ten touches him more often, leaning with his hand to make the brush more stable. 

Later the brush goes slightly higher than before, above his collarbones continuing the drawing there. Taeyong bites his lower lip not to shudder. It’s not exactly ticklish here, but there is a spark of slightly tickling warmth running from every movement of the brush.

He can hear Ten shifting on the bed, leaning closer, but doesn’t expect to feel the warm exhale on the shell of his ear, when Ten whispers, “Your skin is so beautiful. I like drawing on it a lot.” he moves his left hand to Taeyong’s neck, tracing some pattern on his skin, “The ink would look good here too, and on your wrists.”

Taeyong isn’t used to this. The attention, the soft, gentle touches. Ten knows that, and knows how to touch to make Taeyong close his eyes. The other side of knowing Ten so well is that he also reads Taeyong easily, and it’s impossible to hide anything from him. It’s intimidating but Ten is careful with that, with the way he touches Taeyong’s jaw, lightly, knowing that Tayoung wouldn’t be able to hold back from leaning into the touch. He can barely form words, but he still manages to whisper:

“Feel free to try anytime, you know,” he smiles slightly on the way Ten’s hand freezes. He knows that it’s not just a joke, “I am much more interesting than your notebook.”

There is no reply, but Taeyong doesn’t need to hear it. Ten leans back and goes back to drawing, a couple more fast strokes of the brush on the sensitive skin, in different places like he is finishing his work. Then he closes the second pen (again, the quiet clicking sound) and pauses, probably, looks at the result. Then runs his fingers over it, lightly, not to ruin the lines. Taeyong finally lets himself react to the touch, shuddering and arching his back, a little stiff from maintaining the same position for long. Then he stretches, before going back to leaning on the wall. It feels nice. 

Ten smiles and leans in, closer, and presses his lips to Taeyong’s collarbone, a little above it, soft touch of warm lips, while with his left hand he catches Taeyoung’s hand and intervenes their fingers again, just like Taeyong did earlier.

Then Ten whispers, warm air running on the skin, “Thank you.”

Later they get out of the bed, still holding hands like it’s hard to suddenly break contact, and stand in front of the mirror. Taeyong doesn’t think he saw Ten drawing flowers often, but that’s what it was - flowers blooming all over his skin, drawn with thin gentle lines, reaching up, almost to Taeyong’s neck.


	4. the book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong reads to Ten in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all the stories are not exactly related, and exist in more or less parallel universes (quite similar ones, to be honest). Just because I enjoy writing those boys being soft and precious and sensitive and caring.
> 
> As always, it's [kaiSSa666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiSSa666) who makes me write those.  
> It's much easier to make yourself write things when there's someone who enjoys reading them.

When the sunlight hits him in the face, Ten whines and turns away from it, hiding deeper in the blankets. He immediately regrets it - Taeyong’s half of the blanket is cold, like all their hotel room and Ten hisses when it touches his skin.

His whole body aches from yesterday’s concert and he just wants to stay in bed for the whole day, or just for a little longer. Not like he hopes Taeyong will let him, but he still tries.

“Rise and shine,” Taeyong sing-songs, horribly optimistic, like concerts give him energy instead of draining it from him.

“No,” Ten hides himself deeper in the blanket, and hears the sound of Taeyong closing the window. Well, that explains why their room feels like a freezer. 

There is a sound of an incoming message on Taeyong’s phone, and for a second Tae stops moving, probably reading it.

Ten prepares himself for the usual. Taeyong, pulling the blanket away from him, just to see him struggle, or just saying in this calm voice, which is impossible to disobey, something horribly rational, like that they have to go, and the manager is waiting for them, or…

Instead, he hears the bed squeaking under Taeyong’s weight, when he sits on it. He settles in the pillows, and then the room goes quiet. Now, with the window closed, there is a feeling that no sounds enter the room and he can hear Taeyong’s breathing.

Ten waits for something, for a minute, and then maybe two, but nothing happens. That’s too unusual for Taeyong to give up, so Ten is forced to turn around in the blankets, to face the sun. He waits again before his eyes adjust a little and he can try to open them. 

When Ten does, he sees Taeyong sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he reads something on his phone. He is still in his pajamas, only pants though. Ten doesn’t know how someone can be so resistant to cold while being so skinny. It isn’t fair.

He waits for a moment longer, looking at Taeyong, his grey hair falling in his eyes. Pretty.

It’s quiet, like they don’t have to be anywhere, but Ten still gets this horrible feeling that they do. In fact, he remembers that there is a photoshoot, so he has to ask:

“That’s it?”

Taeyong doesn’t look up at him, just keeps reading, “What?” There is a shade of a smirk in the corner of his lips, but he tries to hide it.

Ten even raises his head and pushes away the blanket from his head. Cold air touches the skin and makes him shiver.

“You are not going to torture me until I wake up and get dressed?”

Taeyong shrugs, “You looked too miserable, so I decided to be the kindest person on earth, and...”

“Hyu-ung,” Ten whines. He is an idol for far too long to believe that their decisions matter. 

Taeyong takes a deep breath and puts his phone away, looking at Ten. Then he reaches to him with his hand, gently putting a strand of black hair away from his face.

“Hyung messaged me that our morning shoot was cancelled,” Taeyong sighs, “Which might mean that they will reschedule it to six in the morning tomorrow, or something.”

Ten whines quietly, partly because of the perspective and then - because Taeyong takes his hand away.

“You can sleep if you want. Hyung told us we should go out to see the city later, but they also want to rest longer while we have a chance.”

Ten tries to dig himself deeper under the blanket and fall asleep again, but it doesn’t work. He still feels it - the heaviness in his body, but somehow it just doesn’t go back to resting. The sun is too bright and he doesn’t want to stand up to close the curtains. He probably could ask Taeyong, but…

They barely have time to spend together, like this. It’s a quiet morning, a moment, when they don’t have to be anywhere, no makeup, just soft, white sheets and Taeyong’s breathing.

Ten opens his eyes again and considers his options. 

“What are you reading?” he asks in the end. Taeyong doesn’t look at him, again, seeming consumed by the text.

“Norwegian wood.”

“Is it good?” Ten wants to bother Taeyong - just a little, to get his attention, when Taeyong doesn’t reply, he tries again, just a bit softer, “Hyu-ung.”

He knows that it’s annoying, but when Taeyong is like that, quiet and concentrated, it seems like it’s okay to distract him. When Taeyong looks up from his phone, Ten knows it’s his lucky day, because there is a smile in his eyes, even though he tries to look pissed. 

“Read to me,” Ten asks. They used to do that, a long time ago. Taeyong would read him a part of a text out loud, and then help him figure out all the new words. First, they started from children books, but then switched to novels, and pieces from magazines until they didn’t have to do that anymore.

“I am in the middle of the book,” Taeyong rolls his eyes, but Ten pokes him in the ribs, barely touching. Taeyong doesn’t even bother to pull away. Maybe he is also more tired when he shows.

“It’s okay, I’ve seen a movie,” Ten doesn’t mention he slept through most of it. 

“The book is different.”

If Ten wanted to be honest, he would have to tell Taeyong that he doesn’t care about the plot, or if anything of what Taeyong reads to him makes any sense. He just misses the sound of Taeyong’s voice when he reads. Always slower than when he speaks, because he worries that Ten won’t understand the meaning. 

Ten is not sure how to explain that, and all the right words seem to have somehow disappeared from his head, so he just hopes that their telepathy will work just like it usually does. 

He moves in the bed so he can put his head on Taeyong’s knees and look in Taeyong’s eyes, “Please.”

Taeyong startles for a second, and for that moment Ten is afraid that he crossed a line, and Taeyong will panic and this calm feeling will disappear. But instead Taeyong just removes another strand of hair from Ten’s face.

He doesn’t say anything, just goes back to the book and scrolls up, probably to a point, from which Ten will supposedly get what happens. He doesn’t exactly plan to, though, but he won’t say that. 

Taeyong starts reading and his voice sounds a little sore, lower than it usually is. He stumbles in the text a couple times in the beginning, as it seems that he hasn't read out loud for a while, but Ten doesn’t mind. 

It keeps like that for some time. Ten closes his eyes and relaxes feeling the warmth of Taeyong’s body next to him. Exactly as Taeyong predicted, he has no idea what happens in the chapter. The words make sense one by one, but Ten doesn’t concentrate to make them into a story. For him Taeyong’s voice is a story itself. Ten listens to the way his tone changes, the way he inhales, when he runs out of air in the middle of a sentence. 

Taeyoung’s voice lulls him, and he feels that he is falling asleep again. It’s on some border between being awake and dreaming, when Taeyong’s hand touches his hair, so for a moment Ten sleepily he thinks that it’s just a dream. But for a dream it feels too real, the thin fingers, a familiar touch of slightly cold hand gently ruffling his hair, and then combing it slowly, pulling the strands slightly.

Taeyong doesn’t stop reading, just goes on, like if nothing else happens. When Ten realizes it’s not a dream for some time he is afraid to move, scared that if he does Taeyong will take his hand away. But then he leans into the touch, just a little bit, turns his head, so Taeyong’s fingers run over the ear and piercing in it.

The touch is so light it’s tickling, but it steals Ten’s breath, when Taeyong traces the side of his neck and goes down to the edge of his t-shirt, mindlessly following the neckline.

Ten shivers - can’t stop himself, as it seems impossible. He is too soft, and can’t make enough effort to collect himself and stay still. But Taeyong keeps reading, like he doesn’t notice and he also doesn’t take his hand away, gently touching Ten’s collarbones, so lightly, that Ten has to arch his back to feel the touch better.

Taeyong stops reading and Ten freezes, bites his lip and opens his eyes, afraid to see that panicked expression. But the way Taeyong looks at him is different. Calm and curios, like he wonders what happens if he keeps touching Ten. 

Ten would let him do that without a doubt, so he closes his eyes, and waits until Taeyong starts reading again, going back to the book, once more tracing his shoulders and collarbones. Ten is not sure he understands what Taeyong is reading anymore, but his voice is grounding, and helps Ten take deep breaths and stay still until Taeyong scratches the skin just below his neck and Ten can barely hold back a whimper as the hot wave runs through his body and he shivers.

Taeyong doesn’t seem affected by it at all. He keeps reading, and his words turn into meaningless sounds in Ten’s head, as his knowledge of Korean betrays him. Taeyong's voice is calm, and it doesn’t feel like he is doing anything else beyond simply reading and that’s what gets to Ten the most. How Taeyong stays in control, when Ten can barely keep his reactions in check.

Taeyong’s fingers stay on his shoulders and collarbones, but the line they traced on the side of his neck is still burning and Ten can’t help but wonder by the rest of his barely thinking brain how those light scratches and touches would feel there, on the thin shin.

For some time Ten just hopes that Taeyong will move his hand back himself, will get tired of tracing the patterns on his shoulders, but Taeyong doesn’t seem to notice, as he keeps going with the book where the author describes some nature. He mindlessly touches Ten’s shoulder, drawing some repeating shapes there.

Ten tries to steady his breath and relax under the touch, but as soon as he does, Taeyong scratches just next to the cavity between his collarbones, pressing there and Ten’s mind goes blank for a second as he leans into the touch again.

He doesn’t know if he should ask, or if he should just be content with the touches Taeyong gives him, and maybe there is a reason he doesn’t want to touch Ten’s neck, since he knows how sensitive he is there. Had some time to find out when they lived together. Maybe it feels too intimate, and it’s not a place where Taeyong would want to go now.

Maybe, though, Taeyong just needs his permission.

That moment, Taeyong repeats the motion which just made Ten shiver. It helps Ten to make up his mind, quick and suddenly brave. 

He catches Taeyong’s hand, stopping all the movement and the sound, as Taeyong stops reading and tenses. Ten squeezes his hand, as a sign of— confirmation. Appreciation. And moves Taeyong’s hand where he wants to be touched the most. It’s suddenly so scary, like falling back into someone’s arms, that Ten holds his breath until he feels how a deep shudder runs through Taeyong’s body, a fast exhale.

Ten takes his hand away, and Taeyong doesn’t go back to reading, putting his phone away instead and running his other hand through Ten’s hair, while his fingers trace over his Adam apple, up to the side of Ten’s face, making Ten take a shuddering breath, arch his back, as the touches send sparkles through his skin, until Ten feels completely lost in the sensation, and also in the attention paid to him, the gentleness of the touches and sudden scratches now all over his neck.

Taeyong is attentive. Always has been. He notices the slightest shudders, leaves long scratches and then runs over the red line with the tip of his finger, gentle and caring. Ten lets him do whatever he wants and lets himself react openly, noticing how much Taeyong enjoys him skipping breaths, shivering, shuddering under the touches.

They don’t have a photoshoot today. If the marks from Taeyong nails stay, he can wear something with the higher neckline to hide it. He hopes they stay, a tiny reminder of the touch.

Taeyong stops touching his neck for a moment, just combing Ten’s hair gently, “Okay?”

Ten can’t reply properly, but he nods, opens his eyes, just to meet Taeyong’s gaze, attentive and caring. He keeps eye contact until Taeyong touches his neck again, resuming what he was doing.

Ten doesn’t know how long all of it lasts, before the teasing switches to calmer movements, soft circles, until Taeyong leaves his hand on Ten’s neck, fingers now warm, the same temperature as Ten is. 

For sometime Taeyong keeps petting his hair, calming him and bringing him back to reality, until Ten’s breathing becomes even and he relaxes, melts under the touch, almost feeling sleepy again.

Ten can feel how Taeyong hovers over him, and then leans down to press the lightest kiss on his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for your kind comments, and for your kudos.  
> I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Sometimes it seems to me that all my texts about them are more or less similar and maybe they are, but I still enjoy those a lot.  
> (cries in twenty languages)


	5. the rope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten picked up bondage as a perfect hobby for an Idol. 
> 
> Warnings: personally, it feels a little more explicit than previous texts, but I don't think it's a huge difference.  
> Also I'll have to say that there is a mention of Ten/Hendery, but also in a similar non romantic/sexual way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [this bondage](https://vimeo.com/channels/969311/120746427)
> 
> as an example.   
> I think it's a great video, honestly.
> 
> If you've read comments to the previous texts you probably won't be surprised that this was written [kaiSSa666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiSSa666), just because they are the best, and they talk through those plots with me, and they are awesome.

“Te~en,” - Ten shievers and comes back from his thoughts when Taeyong waves his hand a couple times in front of Ten’s face.

“Sorry,” he feels his cheeks turning red and immediately tries to cover that by the glass of water which he conveniently holds in his hand. Taeyong stares at him for a moment, curious, but then turns back to others. If there was something they asked Ten about, it was already lost in the conversation.

They sit in Baekhyun’s hotel room and finish their celebratory meal filled with mostly junk food.

“Oh man it’s so good to finish at least half of the filming,” Baekhyun falls back in his bed almost fully taken over by Jongin, Lucas and their extensively long limbs. 

“It was so hot today, I thought I’ll boil right there,” Mark wines.

The day was exhausting indeed. It was the last day of the first filming week, which means that they have a couple free days and not a single reason to fly back to Korea and China. Their whole conversation was fully dedicated to how they plan not to move and wherever it is possible to get the hotel staff to bring food directly to their beds.

Ten doesn’t feel the same way, though. Instead there is that strange, wired feeling when you really want to do something stupid, pocking through the tiredness. He glances at Taeyong, who sits just by his right side and laughs with everyone at Baekhyun’s pouting. He isn’t sure he should bring this up at all, but instead of just throwing the idea away, he keeps coming back to it and getting stuck.

It’s stupid, really, right from the very beginnig, a child of some questionable decisions of his exhausted brain.

What will happen if he switches off targeted ads in his smartphone? Oh well what do they sell in UAE hardware stores? Well, that’s a perfect length of nylon rope, not like there is any reason I would need it in Dubai.

He didn’t exactly want to do anything with it. It was a stupid purchase, exactly the one you can make lying in a bathtub after the whole day of filming. A thought racing through your boiled brain, a picture of Taeyong’s wrists tied up by the black nylon rope. A horrible mistake of learning your credit card data by heart.

Just a bunch of questionable decisions. He didn’t think the order would be waiting on his bedside table next day, helpfully delivered by the hotel staff. For a moment he stared at it unable to understand what it was, but then he realized that he indeed purchased 15 meters of rope to his hotel room just because black nylon is hard to get in China and he thought that black would look awesome on Taeyong. 

Which it absolutely would, but that’s not the point.

When they finish eating and go back to their rooms, Ten almost grasps Taeyong’s hand to stop him from passing Ten’s room, but then he doesn’t. He doesn’t exactly have a way of saying it right (or saying it at all). At least not to Taeyoung. 

With Hendery it was different. It was a joke right until it wasn’t - ‘if you won’t stop messing around I’ll tie you to this table’ kind of threat. And then it wasn’t him, who brought the rope and left it in Ten's room.

Then again with Hendery it was all simpler. Like with a puppy, who’s always eager for things, and whom you don’t have to explain yourself to. It wasn’t scary to say “do you want me to tie you up” when they have nothing to do, or while they watch a movie, just like a weird hobby you pick up. Knitting-on-a-person kind of thing.

With Taeyong though, all that confidence kind of evaporates instantly. Taeyong was different to Hendery in too many ways. Or rather in all the ways. And the intimacy they shared was also different - Ten couldn’t imagine himself threatening him, even as a joke. 

“Hey, hyung, I am recently into bondage, you know, amazing hobby for an idol, can I tie you up?”

The image in his head is exactly as embarrassing as the way the question sounds. How do you even ask about such things? 

It wasn’t about bondage itself - if Tae ever asked him if he wanted to be tied up, Ten wouldn’t hesitate even a moment. And he doesn’t even think that Tae would be judging him for being into that. Kink? BDSM-related thing? Japanese erotic bondaging? Anyway. Taeyong isn’t usually judgmental.

But it’s hard to ask for permission.‘You have really beautiful wrists, I want to touch them with my fingers, tie them behind your back, to see your skin under the rope,’ saying this will probably leave Taeyong giggling hysterically for next 10 to 15 minutes, and that’s not exactly a good start, or something Ten is ready to deal with. Not about this, when he feels so vulnerable about it.

Ten falls on his stomach to the bed covered with white lining, face turned sideways so he can still breathe. Somehow he ends up looking directly at the cardboard box with the hardware store name on it. He whines, soundly, and turns his head away, but still feels the heavy presence of his purchase.

He knows what makes him so nervous and unable to just hide the rope in the depth of his luggage until he is back in China. Ten knows that Taeyong would agree. That he would let him do pretty much anything, if Ten asks.

Ten picks up his phone to check for messages. He finds a couple texts from Baekhyun.

**Baekhyun** : you were really quiet. Are you ok~

**Baekhyun** : Did you get a sun stroke~ Should I run to your door and save you~

Ten smiles before replying.

**Ten:** nope hyung ~~~ Just tired

Baekhyun doesn’t answer right away, so Ten guesses their leader fell asleep. He also probably should do the same, and then think about the whole bondage thing tomorrow, or maybe later in the week or maybe just never. Yeah. Never is a great option.

The KakaoTalk notification pops up and Ten clicks on it before even reading the notification. It’s probably Baekhyun anyway.

**Taeyong** : are you ok? You were weird the whole evening

Ten freezes for a second and thinks - it’s kind of an easy way to go with it. Just message “yup, I was thinking maybe you’d like me to tie you up” or some shit like that, and then just wait for those 15 minute of giggling to pass while he doesn’t see.

Ten sighs. Types a reply. Deletes it.

Sighs again.

**Ten** : sorry TT long day. Do you want to watch a movie?

**Taeyong** : which one?

Ten could have offered Howl’s moving castle, an absolute win. But then he declines that idea. Not the ideal background movie for bondage related questions.

**Ten** : whatever 

Taeyong doesn’t reply, and Ten takes it as a “no”. At least tries to. Taeyong is probably tired, maybe he fell asleep or something. 

There’s a knock on the door, which makes Ten jump. For a moment he thinks he should just hide the box somewhere deep in the closet, but then he leaves it out. Not that he hopes that Taeyong will just ask him what it is and makes his life easier (he does). Not that he hopes it’s Taeyong. Maybe it’s Baekhyun, running to save him from the sun stroke.

Taeyong stands in the doorframe. Aubergine-kind-of hair, an oversized t-shirt with barely visible text on it.

“I didn’t know you listened to Coldplay, hyung,” for a second Taeyong gapes at him like he doesn’t understand the question, but then Ten points to the t-shirt.

“You are wearing their merch.”

Taeyong looks down and tries to read the letters upside down. Then shrugs, “Nah. It’s Johnny's,” - they both walk into the room and Taeyong falls on the bed, much like Ten did just half an hour ago, “I barely remember packing.”

Ten sits on the bed next to him. Taeyong faces the ceiling and looks on it like it is the promised movie. A whatever movie - beige ceiling of a hotel room. 

Ten isn’t sure he actually wants to watch something. He didn’t call Taeyong for that. He didn’t even call him for bondage. It’s just that he preferred to be around Taeyong when he could, maybe in hope to catch this quiet, gentle and soft intimacy which happens between them like some magic. Ten doesn’t know how to make that happen.

Taeyong stays quiet, but it doesn’t get weird. His breathing is calm, chest rises and lowers in the huge t-shirt which probably barely fits Johnny but is super baggy on Taeyong’s slender body. 

His arms, with enough muscle to make the body do all those crazily controlled movements, lie down on the white bed, skin a couple tones lighter than Ten’s, just because somebody is better with sunscreen. Taeyong moves his fingers, drums on the bed slowly, like the lining is a piano, and there is an incredibly slow melody he needs to play. Ten knows Taeyong barely plays, but his hands would have looked beautiful on a keyboard. Or pretty much anywhere else. 

Suddenly it hits Ten, all at once. Memories mixed with imagination, from touching Taeyong’s fingers to having the rope in his hands and tying it on a person who trusts you. He wants that so much, that trust, that feeling of control, those tiny red marks which rope leaves on the skin and which fade quickly, if you are careful enough.

He wants that and he thinks Taeyong would say yes, it’s just he doesn’t know how to start and Taeyong doesn’t help him with that calm silence of his, like he feels what is happenning with Ten, and waits for it to resolve. A magic of telepathy. Kind of feels like you already said something, although you didn’t.

Ten feels Taeyong’s eyes on him, waiting. Maybe Ten is like water to Taeyong - transparent, easy to see inside. He doesn’t look back, afraid that he will be the one giggling hysterically at the end.

Finally, Ten takes a deep breath and stretches to grab the box and get the rope which he unpacked earlier out. He puts it next to Taeyong. Hyung turns his head to stare at the rope, but doesn’t say anything. At least for the first minute. Then he turns his head to Ten, as much as he can in this position. Ten would like to say something, but all the words went somewhere down his throat in his stomach.

“From your face I can’t say if you mean mountain climbing or double suicide,” he smirks at his own joke, a silly expression, “I am also not using that to escape the hotel.”

Ten also laughs as he imagines them using 15 meters of nylon to escape their manager and Baekhyun. His laughter almost turns nervous for a moment, but he takes a deep breath to force it down and hopes the running air conditioning hides the sound of his beating heart.

“I got rope from a store,” he starts from the obvious, and kind of expects Tayong to make a joke about that, but Taeyong doesn’t. He keeps looking up, squinting slightly, probably because from that position he is staring right at the lamp behind Ten. Ten quickly turns around and finds the switch to make the room slightly less bright. 

Instead of saying thank you, Taeyong punches him in the knee, lightly, but then just leaves his hand there, reassuring.

Ten never knows how is that so easy for Taeyong to read his mind, or mood, or both at the same time. He focuses on his hyung’s wrist. It seems fragile, but Ten knows it’s not true.

Ten chooses words for a moment, some more silence before he finally speaks, “Will you let me tie your hands with it?” there is another pause and then he decides to add, “I-I know how to do that right.”

Ten feels the blush running all over his cheeks, a sudden lack of confidence that isn’t his thing with anyone but Taeyong. Ten himself can’t exactly know why, it’s just. Different, the feeling of his heart beating so hard that he feels hot all over in the well conditioned hotel room. He can't even look on Taeyong, and he is almost-the-winner of that stupid staring contest they had. He wouldn’t have won if Taeyong was there.

He suddenly thinks he actually doesn’t know if he knows how to do bondage right. There are whole schools of ‘how to’ and his internet exploration is most likely nowhere near to what a beginner in such a school would know.

But before he keeps talking and explaining himself he notices that Taeyong didn’t take away his hand. He didn’t say anything, but also didn’t move away, or even laugh in that hysterical manner he has. Ten finally looks from where Taeyong’s fingers touch the knee to his face, and notices that Taeyong eyes the rope. It’s a weird feeling in the gut - both hopeful and nervous even though the last time Taeyong told him no was when Ten tried to tickle Haechan to death for eating the last portion of noodles.

Taeyong looks back on Ten, as they both search for the signs of discomfort, or fear, and then Taeyong just sits up in one swift motion, muscles and joints moving under his skin like if he was a cat. After his position seems comfortable enough he just stretches his hands towards Ten, palms up, like if Ten is going to just do that with a 15 meters of rope sitting on the bed.

Of course Taeyong doesn’t know— basically doesn’t know anything, much like he and Hendery didn’t in the beginning. But Hendery was different - he whined, he moved around, asked dumb questions, while what Taeyong did just now is just a simple gesture, so open that Ten feels a sudden dumb intention to tear up. 

Instead, he just takes Taeyong’s wrists in his hands, lowering them down, placing the hands between them and turns to sit on the bed so they face each other. Ten looks at Taeyong once more, suddenly that ‘I’m in charge’ feeling hitting him. He strokes Taeyong’s wrists with his thumbs, a soft movement. He can feel the pulse this way, and maybe he is wrong but it seems just a bit faster than it usually is.

“You sure?” 

Taeyong looks down at their hands, thinking about something, a strand of aubergine hair on his face, the cut of the T shirt opening the collarbones. It moves when Taeyong shrugs. Shrugs and then nodes, and Ten kind of wants to take this for an answer but then it doesn’t look like a good place to start.

“Tae,” he starts softly and immediately sees the corners of Taeyong’s mouth stretching in a giggle as he crunches down in that weird embarrassment he has. Taeyong doesn’t take his hands away though, as he usually would to cover his head. Ten might have pushed it too far with calling him that. He doesn’t do that too often.

Ten waits there until Tayong sits more or less straight, cheeks reddish pink, keeps gently stroking the thin skin of the wrists with his thumbs.

“Don’t,” Taeyong finally says, voice still having the trace of the laugh in it, “otherwise I just. You know.”

Ten does. Knows how hard it is for Taeyong to combat this feeling and that now it takes an amazing amount of concentration for him to keep calm. Suddenly, Ten realizes that he is not exactly ready for this. All he has is 15 metre of nylon rope, but it’s not even untangled. Also 15 metres would be hard to handle at once.

“Okay, then just sit here. I have to — ”

“Just don’t talk,” Taeyong bites his lip, going back to staring on his hands. 

Ten gives his wrists a light squeeze, before he stands up from the bed and goes to his luggage to find manicure scissors and a lighter which he is so glad he carries around. It’s far from perfect equipment but it works just well enough to do what it needs - cut the rope in half and burn the ends. Ten really hopes it won’t trigger the fire alarm cause he would have hard time explaining this to their manager.

When Ten looks up at Taeyong, just to make a decision about how he wants to do that, he sees that Taeyong stares on the pillows and cracks the joints in his fingers - another thing he does when he is nervous. It busts Ten’s confidence to some extent. He doesn’t know how Taeyong will react and how it will feel, but he can work with that. At least he knows that Taeyong trusts him to do this. It’s a good enough start.

Ten folds both ropes in half and puts the stool next to the wardrobe, where there is more space. He suddenly knows what he wants to do, too.

Ten puts the scissors next to the stool - he never had to cut the rope on Hendery, and those are far from being a safe tool to use next to someone’s skin, but it will do. Then he switches off the conditioning, just so it doesn’t get chilly. The room suddenly goes quiet. Taeyong doesn’t ask him anything, probably still battling his anxiety, so Ten doesn’t say anything too, just going back to the bed and pulling Taeyong’s hand so he stands up and follows Ten to the wardrobe.

Ten wonders for a moment how that feels, when you don’t know what is happening, and what will be done to you and just have to completely trust the other person. Much like Ten trusted Taeyong when he ate weird food his hyung brought to the dorm, before Ten would learn its name, or when their managers would tell him in Korean where they are going and Taeyong would just nod him from where he was across the room, or squeeze his hand if they stood next to each other, just to show him that it’s okay and he will explain later. 

Ten smiles but makes sure Taeyong doesn’t see it, not to make him more uncomfortable. Ten makes him sit facing the window, thankfully he has the road view and the room is high enough for someone to be peeking through it. 

Ten stands behind Taeyong’s back. This way it will be easier for Taeyong to not feel so embarrassed. His flexibility is more than enough for his hands to be tied behind his back, too.

Ten puts his hands on Taeyong’s shoulders and presses on them lightly, forcing them down. Then he makes a couple massaging motions, a routine so familiar he doesn’t have to say anything. The same thing Ten would do in the beginning, when it was too hard for him to explain Taeyong what to do with his body while dancing so he could only touch to explain. A silent ‘don’t raise your shoulders’, ‘relax’.

It seems that it’s still a reflex - to let go under those touches. These are unfamiliar circumstances, but a very familiar body. Ten knew how those hands felt in his, how those shoulders and arms felt under his fingers.

When Ten feels that Taeyong is relaxed enough, he presses between his shoulder blades while tugging his shoulder back to make him take the right position. Taeyong understands him easily.

“Stay like that” 

At this Taeyong makes a sound, a giggle, again, but doesn’t move, so Ten just keeps going and takes the first rope in his hands. It’s a new rope, but it’s still a familiar material in his hand, a sensation, a muscle memory about how to do things. He places the first row of rope on Taeyong’s chest, eventually moving the bight between the shoulder blades and passing the rest of the rope through it. Ten pulls at the rope, strong but insistent, making Taeyong bring his shoulders closer behind his back, a restricted, but not uncomfortable position. Taeyong half-giggles, half-gasps.

Ten holds the rope in one hand, so it doesn’t go loose, and puts his right hand on the back of Taeyong’s neck, squeezing more firmly than before.

“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he doesn’t ask, because he knows it’s not possible to get Taeyong coherently speaking until he feels more comfortable, “It’s not supposed to hurt. If you feel cold, or stop feeling some part of your arms, tell me, okay? Numbness, anything.”

Taeyong nods, a movement felt more than seen, but Ten knows he can trust him on that. They helped each other stretch far too many times to not know when to stop.

With that Ten feels like he can move on. Another row of rope on the chest, black rope against the black t-shirt and the white skin of the arms, and the first knot between the shoulder blades. Taeyong’s breathing becomes more even.

Ten doesn’t quite know himself how that feels — works. With Hendery, too, like all his energy, nervousness pours out of him when he can’t move. There’s no promise that Taeyong will enjoy this, or will ever let him do this again, but for now all Ten can do is keep going, slow and gentle. Ten lets go of the rope and places his hands on Taeyong’s arms, sliding down to the wrists, standing on one knee to reach the wrists easily.

For a second, when he feels the wrist bones under his fingers, this opportunity seems to be more than he can handle. A feeling, which overwhelms him in a way that he needs to close his eyes for a moment, just to calm down. 

He takes the rope again, making a loop around the left wrist. Then, around the second one, just above the bone to make sure there is no pressure on the joint.

He tries to make sure that he doesn’t sting Taeyong’s skin with the ends of the rope, gently slides it between his arms, pulls, to put the wrists as close as possible. Might have been uncomfortable for anyone else, but with Taeyong there’s almost no resistance. Just a shudder that Ten barely spots, and a sharp exhale. 

“Are you okay?” - Ten changes his position a little, moving so he can see Taeyong’s face, red cheeks and the bitten lip. Taeyong turns away quickly, as if letting Ten see his reaction is too much for him. 

For a moment Ten wants to ask, to hear what exactly Taeyong feels, but then he realises that he is pretty sure he knows. It’s a lot to take in, when you first do it. Ten also didn’t expect it would feel like it did when he first tied Hendery’s hands together.

Ten would like Taeyong to share this with him, but words have been always hard for Taeyong when he feels vulnerable. And it’s okay.

Knowing that Taeyong enjoys the sensation gives him a new level of confidence. Tugging a little tighter, letting the rope go faster between his fingers, being just slightly rougher when tying the nod between the wrists. Black rope tied tightly against white skin. Beautiful just as Ten thought it would be.

The slight difference, a moment between your hands being still somehow free and then suddenly not, as you become unable to get yourself free without help. Ten lets the rope hang and stands up, leaning to Taeyong’s ear.

“You can try to put pressure on the ropes now,” he says quietly. Taeyong shudders, probably from the air tickling the shell of his ear. Ten can see his attempt to separate his wrists. “Carefully. Don’t put too much pressure on your elbows, it might be unpleasant in this position.”

Taeyong bites his lip again, and Ten can hear the way his breathing becomes more frequent. Hendery told Ten that this is both scary and exciting, realising that you can’t get out.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Ten knows he wants to. Knows that the full bondage would look even more beautiful on Taeyong, but he waits for a reply, at least some confirmation that Ten reads everything correctly and Taeyong is okay.

He gets exactly that, a fast, short nod. He knows Taeyong is confused already, but goes just one step further, bringing his lips closer to the ear shell, almost touching and whispering slowly, “Thank you.” It works like magic as Taeyong shuts his eyes, inhaling sharply, a shudder running through his body. Ten didn’t expect this, and the way it affects himself, his own cheeks burning as he feels hot all over. 

He goes back to the rope, ends barely reaching the floor now and ties the second rope to the first one so he can keep going. Up, under the rope on the back, down again, now to repeat what he did with the wrists on the arms. That should help him spread the pressure evenly so it’s more safe and comfortable.

There are some things he finds hard to resist now. Gently touching the skin, pulling the rope just to make Taeyong feel it. At first it seems like Taeyong doesn’t notice, but it’s easy to feel that he is holding back, just by the way he forces himself to breathe calmly.

Ten slows down, focusing on every faster exhale and tiny shudder, repeating the motions which caused them, until he doesn’t feel that Taeyong let’s go more. Ten ties the knot between the arms and pulls on the rope so it tightens properly when he hears a sound escaping Taeyong’s mouth. It’s unexpected and beautiful, a quiet, unintended thing. If Ten didn’t know Taeyong he would have thought that the rope is too tight, or maybe it was painful, but it’s not how Taeyong reacts to pain. Ten feels Taeyong tensing, embarrassed.

Ten leans in again, back to the shell of Taeyong’s ear, putting his hand to the back of his neck, and petting gently, just like in the beginning. He is not sure how he makes Taeyong believe him.

“Don’t,” he whispers, “it’s beautiful.” 

Taetong relaxes a little, probably since he doesn’t hear any discomfort in Ten’s voice. At that moment Ten gets an idea. Just a slightly cruel one, but he thinks it will work. He takes Taeyoung by the shoulders, guiding him to turn around on the stool so he faces the opposite way from the windows, right to the wardrobe mirror. Taeyong complies easily, but then raises his eyes to look in front of him.

Taeyong probably doesn’t expect to see himself like this. Maybe he forgot the mirror was there at all, or just didn’t think about it. He tries for a second to move his hands, maybe to cover his eyes in his usual nervous gesture, but it’s safe to do now with the pressure evenly divided. As soon as he realises he can’t move, he just turns away from the mirror, closing his eyes.

It was a sharper reaction that Ten expected, but he doesn’t show that. It just somehow becomes evident and easy, what he should say and do. “I can untie you anytime. You just have to tell me, if it's too much,” he speaks slowly and calmly, just in case the sudden inability to escape scared Taeyong. Hand on the neck, gentle contact skin to skin, slow, circular movements until the breathing won’t become slightly more even.

“You don’t have to look,” Ten continues softly, combs through Taeyong’s hair once, carefully petting him, “But I want you to. You look beautiful.”

Another shudder, as if when Taeyong is tied Ten’s voice gets some magical qualities. He hopes it’s true. He hopes Taeyong will let him continue. Hopes he will shudder like that instead of giggling nervously. Hopes Taeyong trusts him on that, because Ten wants him to know how beautiful he is. 

Ten tugs the aubergine hair gently, soft enough that it wouldn’t be painful to resist, just guiding Taeyong to face the mirror again. “Open your eyes.”

Just like that, Taeyong obeys. His first intention is to turn away, but Ten still holds his hair, still lightly, but it works as a reminder, so Taeyong stops the motion. Ten smiles.

Taeyong’s hair is all over his face, so Ten reaches to move the strands away from the forehead. Red cheeks, bitten lip, slightly dilated pupils. Such a pretty reflection, Taeyong being undone more and more every second. 

“Good,” Ten still keeps whispering, occasionally touching the shell of the ear with his lips. Short from being a kiss, but not really, “You can let go. You don’t need to hold back. It’s perfect.”

There’s the last bit of the rope left, just enough to finish the bondage below the elbows. Ten doesn’t want it to end, so he allows himself to play around a little longer: soft touches, light pulls on the rope, just to show Taeyong how easy it is to move him around and how hard it is for him to resist. 

Ten makes Taeyong stretch his back, sit straighter, just by pulling the rope in the middle. Taeyong closes his eyes again, but instead of biting his lip he lets out a sound. Not a moan, much shorter and quieter, but he doesn’t tense, trusting Ten with his reactions.

Ten might have played himself, though. He can barely concentrate and stay cool when Taeyong makes those sounds, and shudders, and tilts his head, exposing the front of his neck. It fascinates Ten. Much more than he could have imagined.

Finally, he goes back to finishing the bondage. Taeyong goes quiet again, but when Ten looks up he notices that Taeyong follows his expression in the mirror. 

Ten lets him. He hopes that Taeyong can read his mind more than ever. That way he would see how beautiful he is in Ten’s eyes.

There is not much left to do. One last knot, hiding the ends and it’s suddenly done. Perfect hand bondage. Full inability to move. Nylon against skin, black next to white. Fragile, gentle wrists. Ten sits down on one knee again, just to touch the fingers and check, if they are warm and Taeyong isn’t freezing. It seems okay and Taeyong shudders, when Ten traces a line on the skin with his nails.

“Can I take a photo?”

“Yeah,” Ten thinks that it’s the first time Taeyong spoke to him since it started. He pulls out his phone, takes a picture, trying not to get Taeyong’s face in the shoot. Just in case somebody steals his phone and finds that there. You never know.

Then he leans on Taeyong a little bit, hugging him from the back, so he can show the result to him. Somehow, he can’t stop himself from smiling, happy about everything. 

“It looks cool,” Taeyong says seriously. Ten wants to say that it’s much easier than it looks, but then he doesn’t. It really looks good. It looks amazing, thanks to Taeyong. 

Ten looks in the mirror once again, meeting Taeyong’s eyes. It’s like the finished bondage took all that insecurity and nervousness away. Nowhere to hide, nothing to cover. Taeyong looks back, still undone, and it’s like another photo Ten takes, just in his memory instead of a camera. Pink cheeks, open expression, his own smile. He makes an effort to remember that.

He takes his time when untying the rope, massaging the skin on the arms gently, making sure there are no marks. He unties the wrists, and then the upper part, releasing the pressure slowly, so Taeyong takes his time to feel his body again. When it’s done, Taeyong stretches like a cat and makes an attempt to massage his wrists, but Ten catches his hand.

“Let me,” he asks, and it doesn’t require any effort. It’s easy to be honest now. Taeyong nods. 

Ten puts all the rope together, tying it and hiding it in his luggage. Then leads Taeyong to the bed like Taeyong is fragile and can’t walk himself. When they sit he carefully massages the skin on the forearms, wrists, the palms on both hands, and Taeyong almost purrs, lulled by the sensation. He doesn’t leave Ten’s room. They switch on some channel about nature on TV. It’s in English and they barely register the meaning, but it shows fish and ocean, and Taeyong doesn’t take his hand away, almost like they both need that physical connection. 

One moment, Ten feels so happy and full he raises Taeyong’s hand and kisses the knuckles gently, soft and grateful. He feels Taeyong’s breath shutter as he squeezes his hand in reply.


End file.
